


Hell's Gate Bar

by Inell



Series: Smutty McSmut Drabbles [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Marking, Dirty Thoughts, First Time Blow Jobs, Future Jordan Parrish/Stiles Stilinski, Glory Hole, Horny Teenager, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, No Condoms, Reference to Stiles/Male Members of Pack, Semi-Public Sex, Stiles is Legal, Stiles is shameless, Wet & Messy, barely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 13:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11358576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Stiles just turned eighteen, and he finally gets to investigate the rumor of a glory hole at Hell's Gate Bar that he heard about four years ago.





	Hell's Gate Bar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [originfire](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=originfire).



> originfire said: Prompt: Stilex x ? and anonymous sex
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

The floor is pretty gross. The tile is peeling, showing off stained concrete in spots, and it doesn’t look like it’s been washed in a while—maybe not _ever_. Shoes stick to it, making a weird schwoop noise as they stick and release with every step. The smell is awful, too: piss and come and a floral spray that shoots into the air every fifteen minutes from a wall mounted dispenser above the bathroom door. The flickering fluorescent lights in the ceiling are like something out of a bad horror movie, giving off just enough light to see but making a buzzing noise and cutting out just enough to not be bright.

Overall, the place is just as seedy and sordid as expected. And Stiles fucking loves it. This is what he wants, after all. The full experience of doing something inappropriate, in some people’s eyes, in a setting out of a raunchy magazine. The ambiance just adds to the filthy-wrong of what he’s doing, and it turns him on— _a lot._ Of course, he’s eighteen and always horny, so there isn’t a lot that doesn’t turn him on, but this is definitely unlike anything he’s ever done.

Since he knows he’s not got all day, he can’t just stand there and be excited about this horrible bathroom as the setting for his night’s adventure. Instead, he has to take it all in quickly, bouncing a little on the heels of his feet, then walk into the open bathroom stall that’s calling out to him. Everything’s set up just like he’s heard, which is proof that there’s truth to some rumors around town, especially the ones whispered about in dark corners of the Jungle and at the local VFW.

There isn’t a toilet in this stall he’s chosen. There’s just a hole on the wall between his stall and the one next to it. The rumors about a glory hole in the bathroom at The Hell’s Gate bar are definitely true, and Stiles has his nifty fake i.d. to thank for discovering this treasure. He’s been hearing about the glory hole since before he even knew what a glory hole _was_ , but he’d waited, not wanting to risk getting some stranger arrested for unknowingly letting an underage kid suck him off. Now that he’s eighteen, and three days, he’s able to finally come here to find out for himself if the glory hole actually does exist.

Best birthday present ever.

It’s early, barely seven o’clock, but he couldn’t wait any longer before finally coming to Hell’s Gate. He’s a little relieved that the name isn’t actually accurate, after a couple of years in the supernatural world, he knows anything’s possible, and a lot relieved to find out the stall is open and ready to be occupied. One reason for his impatience is not wanting someone to get there ahead of him. As it is, he’s got it to himself, so he looks around and tries to figure out how to make himself comfortable for a few hours.

He’s got plans, alright? Four years of glory hole whispers and embracing his bisexuality has led to lots of fantasies, and he can’t wait to just be used by anonymous men until his jaw is sore and his throat hurts. He hasn’t been with a guy before, but he’s done his research and practiced deep throating until he moved up from carrots to a thick zucchini that was nearly as big as his own dick, so he thinks he’ll be fine regardless of what men visit the glory hole tonight. He’s already hard just thinking about it, so he kneels down on the gross floor and starts squeezing his dick through his jeans.

It isn’t that long before he hears the squeak of the bathroom door opening. The stall door doesn’t have any gaps, so he can’t take a peak to see who came in, but he can see a pair of work boots walk past his stall towards the urinals. He listens to some guy taking a piss, which isn’t that hot, and he waits. The guy washes his hands and there’s footsteps again before they stop by Stiles’ stall.

“Fuck, why not.” He hears the mutter outside his stall, the voice too low to even try to recognize, and then the door beside his stall is opening. He listens to the sound of a zipper being lowered, and then a thin dick is being pushed into the hole. It isn’t that big, but Stiles doesn’t really have anything to judge by besides his own dick and porn. Scott doesn’t count since he hasn’t seen that since they were thirteen and comparing sizes, anyway.

Stiles licks his lips and leans forward, flicking his tongue out to lick the head. He wrinkles his nose because he can taste piss, and he quickly moves watersports down on his ‘kinks to try’ list because he’s not that into it, it seems. Ignoring that, he begins to lick, tentative at first, a bit nervous, but getting more confident as the guy begins making noises. He starts to suck, his nose squashing against the wall of the stall as he takes everything the guy can fit through the hole.

It’s over way too quick. The guy is groaning and coming not a few minutes into the blowjob. Stiles isn’t expecting it, so he’s caught off guard at the first spurt of come against his tongue. No way is he planning to swallow come from a bunch of horny strangers, not with STIs so rampant, and condoms sort of ruin the whole glory hole experience, so he’s already got a plan. He pulls back, letting the come hit his face because that always gets him off when he watches porn. His dick likes it in real life, too. Throbbing and pressing tight against his jeans as four spurts of come coat his chin and lips.

The guy is breathing heavy, panting a little, then he’s zipping up and leaving without even a thank you. Stiles doesn’t have long to criticize the poor behavior because another dick is soon pushing it’s way through the hole. Thicker and longer, about average, already leaking. Guy probably jerked off some listening to Groaner getting off. That thought makes Stiles horny, and he’s soon sucking and licking the dick like a desperate whore cause, well, it turns out, he kinda is one when it comes to sucking dick.

Not a huge surprise considering his oral fixation.

Still, it’s always good to discover new things about one’s self, right?

When he starts to recognize the signs, he pulls off, jerking the dick as the guy comes, moving his head so he can coat his face with it. Come is dripping off his nose, and he can’t stop himself from reaching down to unfasten his jeans. He shoves them and his underwear down just enough to free his dick, reaching up to wipe the come off his face and use it as lube. Thick dick is replaced by a pretty dick that belongs to A Talker, which Stiles totally knows is a kink he’s got and actually does himself when he’s jerking off.

“You’re touching yourself, aren’t you? Filthy little slut,” pretty dick says, the words bothering the part of Stiles that isn’t into debasement, but appealing to the part of him that’s kneeling on a gross floor sucking strangers’ dicks. He’s a complex guy.

Pretty dick keeps muttering at him as Stiles sucks, calling him names that’d get him punched if Stiles heard them used any other time, and really getting into it. There are more feet outside the stall now. Shoes ranging from sneakers to leather boots to loafers.

Stiles imagines what kind of men they belong to, listening to him sucking dick and waiting their turn like the desperate slut he’s accused of being. They don’t realize that he’s got the power. He’s the one controlling their orgasm, making them feel good, letting them come when he wants. It’s such a rush that he knows he’s going to be doing this again. Not just with strangers, either. He wants his pack, wants to knock Jackson on his ass by making him beg, wants Boyd to make noises unlike any he’s ever made, wants Isaac whimpering because he needs it so bad, wants Scott grinning at him and joking about finally finding a way to make him quiet, wants Derek praising him and making him take it _so good_.

The dicks start to blur. Big, small, thick, thin, it’s one after another as he jerks off until his wrist is aching and he’s come two—three—four times. His jaw is so sore he has to take a break between dicks, rubbing it and moving it around before feasting on another delicious morsel waiting for him. He discovers that letting the come drip off his face is totally one of his kinks, though possibly because of the depravity of the circumstances. He’ll have to test it in a better environment to see if it gets him just as hard.

He also discovers that being used isn’t as hot as he built up in his mind because there’s not really any kind of connection between him and the dicks he’s sucking. Being used by his lacrosse team would probably be hot as fuck, but a bunch of dicks one after the other without even knowing who they belong to is actually kind of boring after a while.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t turning him on, because it totally is, and the power rush is amazing. He’ll be making a trip to Hell’s Gate a monthly part of his schedule, for sure, but he’s looking forward to using his techniques on some familiar faces soon. Maybe he’ll start with Parrish, since he’s seen the way the guy looks at his mouth when he visits the station to see his dad, or maybe even Allison’s dad, cause Argent is a total DILF who needs to relax, or Peter, since he’s probably not been blown since becoming a zombie and Stiles is totally willing to take one for the team to help him find out if being resurrected affects sexual urges.

It’s those thoughts that run through his mind as he keeps sucking dick after dick. He no longer pays much attention to what stranger’s shoes are on the other side of the stall so much as fantasizing about them being people he actually knows who don’t realize they’re letting Stiles suck him off. If his mind even connects one pair of shoes to his dad’s, well, he’s never claimed to be a saint, and there’s not much that doesn’t turn him on, even the dirty-wrong stuff that _should_.

Hours later, he’s leaning against the wall of the stall, aching in ways that surprise him. His knees are sore, his legs are asleep, his face is sticky and crusted, his throat’s too achy to even talk, and his jaw needs some ice because ouch. There’s no one else waiting for his mouth, the flickering lights casting shadows on an empty room. He looks at his phone and sees that it’s a little after two.

Damn, no wonder he feels so tired.

There are several missed messages from his pack, one from his dad that’s not that important, and one from Parrish that has his heart racing and his dick twitching. It just says _Really, Stiles? Hell’s Gate? I thought you were smarter than that. I left a bottle of mouthwash in your Jeep. From what I saw, you’ll need it. We should talk._ It was followed by an address. Stiles can’t help staring at the words ‘what I saw’ and wondering which dick he’d sucked tonight belonged to the hot deputy he’s wanted to fuck for two years. A quick glance at the address tells him he’s probably going to find that out later tonight.

He grins as he stands up. “This is the best night _ever_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow Me on [Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


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